The General & The Knight 37.

Winter. North Of The Border.

Dorc da Orc looks down at his sodden boots, and soaked knee high pants in disgust.
Then the large ork who is walking at the rear of the line of march. Glares at those walking infront of him.
"Fuckheads" loudly mutters Dorc da Orc as he looks at those infront of him, who allowed him to get wet.
Forgetting that he was the one that fell asleep on the beach, below the high tide line.
Which woke him up just after dawn this morning. Much to his disgust and anger.
The ork warleader then loudly mutters "Could of fucken wakes Dorc up, 'stead of letting me gets wet".
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world then scowls in anger.
As up ahead at the front of the line of march, his bitter rival sir Percavellé Lé Dic looks back and calls out "Stop your whining beast, i can hear you all the way from up here!" followed by "Wot".
The ork weaponsmith considers throwing an axe or hammer at the heavily armoured knight.
But decides against it, as most of the teenage recruits in the group are between him and the nobleborn knight.
Dorc da Orc or Dorkindle which is his given name. Figures he'd get into trouble if he accidentally killed one or two of the young army recruits.
The ork general in the armies of Farque then grimaces, and scowls down at his boots.
As he feels water slosh around in the right one. The large ork then sighs and hopes his boots and pants dry out fairly quickly.
It won't take all that long. As the day has dawned sunny and clear. And undoubtedly mild to say the least.
The morning already feels like the middle of a warm spring day. Much to the disgust of Dorkindle. As it's still actually winter.
The big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world wishes he hadn't come out to the coast. And instead stayed behind in the forest town of Gildin Dale.
At least there was fucken snows there, the large ork sourly thinks to himself.
Then the general in the armies of Farque looks away to his left and scowls in disgust.
For as far as the eye can see in that direction. And he can see an awful long way with his naturally enhanced eyesight. Is the Great Western Ocean.
The warleader of the ork race takes his eyes off the ocean. And looks ahead, as well as inland instead.
Which to the relief of weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks, there's no water in that direction. Infact, there's not a lot of anything in that direction.
The coastline here to the north of the border. Looks much like a lot of northwest Farque along it's coast.
The difference being there's no cultivated land, or a road. Which ends in the town of Halmard.
Here north of the border, just like to the south of it. There's little in the way of trees.
And though in northwestern Farque along the coast you'll see trees that have been cultivated. In the form of orchards, and woodlots.
Here in the unruled lands along the coast to the north of the border. You'll never see anything like that. You'll likely see a lone tree here and there. All a clump of them once and a while.
Trees that are usually all bent in one way or the other. Due to the winds that come off The Great Western Ocean at times.
While just like the coastline to the south of the border. There's coves, and bays, with sandy secluded beaches.
That is the norm all the way south along the coast of the lands Farque, to well beyond The Winter Palace.
While northwards, beyond the border into the unruled lands.
The similar looking coastline goes for even further. Though you won't see any fishing villages, or small towns dotted along the coast for quite some time.
As the first settlement on the coast north of the border, is almost forty miles from the town of Halmard.
And that settlement up the coast, is the destination of the group of ten teenage army recruits. Along with two of the instructors they've had this winter, the general and the knight.
After asking sir Percavellé Lé Dic to go out infront with Dammis to scout things out.
Hamblin the teenage recruit who is changing who is scouting out infront every couple of miles.
Looks back, and calls out to general Dorc to come forward and join him at the front of the line of march.
The large ork shrugs his broad, heavy shoulders after thinking about it for a moment or two.
Then he jogs forward to the front of the line. Occasionally scowling as his feet squelch within his big, black boots.
Dorkindle, who at least his grubby knee high pants are drying out, grunts then says "Hey cunt" to Hamblin the recruit, before adding "What you fucken want?".
"General is there anyone in the immediate vicinity?" asks Hamblin the teenage recruit, who is the unofficial leader of the first group of recruits.
"Va-cin fucken what?" asks the ork warleader who has heard that word a number of times over the years he's been here in the Southlands, but he has absolutely no idea what it means.
"In the area" says Hamblin the recruit who then adds "General".
"Why you not fucken say that" mutters Dorkindle in the ork language, who has always held the opinion that the common language has far too many words for the same thing.
Which is the complete opposite of the ork language. Which has hardly any words for everything. Where one word, could have dozens, if not hundreds of meanings.
Such as Cakl which translates to Cunt. Which can mean anything from friend to hate. And everything in between.
The ork language, where you'll find expletives in abundance. Is a colourful language to say the least.
And Dorc da Orc misses speaking it on a regular basis. It's one of the reasons he likes staying in the lands Farque.
It's the only place where he's found other people that know his native language.
Though none of the recruits, know it. And nor does sir Percavellé Lé Dic. Which isn't a surprise, considering the former paladin has a disdain of everything to do with the ork warleader.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks looks around as he sniffs, then after a little while, he says to Hamblin "Nah, no fucken peoples around".
The thirteen year old recruit, who will definitely end up in the scouts and rangers division of one of the armies of Farque nods his head, then says "Maybe tomorrow evening some time".
In reply to Dorc da Orc asking him "How longs until we gets to this fucken place?".
The ork general loudly mutters "Shoulda bring more fucken booze with me".
As he drank an awful lot of what he brought with him during the night.
Now he's only carrying a small number of barrels of wine and ale. All in a couple of the sacks he has tied to his weapon harness.
Dorkindle who knows he has to keep an eye on the teenage recruits as they patrol out here, north of the border, in the unruled lands.
Doesn't know much more than that. Apart from they're to go to a village or town further up the coast, Almost forty miles from the border. Then head inland, and go back south to that border, and return to Halmard
"We gonna kill all the fucks at this shithole we goin' to?" asks the son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks. Whose skull he has tied to his belt.
"Er?" says Hamblin the teenage recruit with a sideways look at the large ork. Who got wet to at least the waist early this morning. When they found him lying on a beach. And let the tide come up, and drench the ork general. Who only woke when he felt the waves hitting him in the groin.
"No general" adds the teenager from the farming village of Polsten, which lies about forty five miles to the southeast of the forest town of Gildin Dale.
"We're to observe the folk of that town. And see what they get up to. Making sure none of them know about us being there" continues Hamblin, who is the unofficial leader of the first of four groups of teenage recruits. Who have spent most of the winter living and training in the town of Gildin Dale.
Before making their way out to the coast of the lands Farque.
"Well, that fucken sucks donkey dick" says Dorc da Orc in a disappointed tone of voice, as he figures just killing everyone in this coastal settlement they're heading to. Would be good practice for the teenage army recruits. All of whom are from northwestern Farque.
The teenage recruit Hamblin isn't surprised at that sentiment from the large ork walking beside him.
As the ork general on more than one occasion throughout the winter. Has suggested that the best type of training is to actually kill people.
Who exactly? He's not all that fussy about. Just as long as he can get to kill his bitter rival, sir Percavellé Lé Dic at the same time.
They walk through midmorning, not stopping as they head cross country as they head up the coast of the unruled lands that are to the north of the nation of Farque.
And when midday comes around. They only briefly stop at a beach to have something to eat and drink for the midday meal, before they get moving again.
In the early afternoon, the recruit Jinsa is out infront a few hundred yards, scouting for the group.
When she comes jogging back to the rest of the group, and the ork warleader and the foreign knight. Who have been two of their instructors this winter.
"I think there's an airship flying inland of us" quickly says Jinsa the teenage recruit in the elven language, followed by "North of us, and heading north by the looks of it".
"One of ours?" quietly asks Hamblin in the same language as he undoes his pack, to get out the eyepiece that was given to him by commander Kolmic before they left Halmard.
"Not sure" replies Jinsa who is the best archer in the group, she continues with "Too far to tell, i barely spotted it".
"General" says Hamblin in the common language "Do you see an airship away to the north?" adds the teenage recruit from the farming village of Polsten as he points away to the northeast.
Dorc da Orc, who is looking back at where sir Percavellé Lé Dic is walking at the rear, and is glaring at the nobleborn knight.
Grunts, and looks at the young army recruit, who he sees pointing away inland, and to the north.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world looks away in that direction.
And with the coast here north of the border, just like in northwestern Farque. Is essentially flat, with the exception of some of the headlands that stick out into The Great Western Ocean.
The general in the armies of Farque gets a good, clear view inland and to the north.
As Hamblin calls a stop, the ork weaponsmith nods his head, then says "Yeah cunt" followed by "There's a fucken ship that way".
The ork warleader continues with "Got two fucken sail poles" referring to masts.
"A frigate?" asks Jinsa, who then adds "A warship?".
"Hmmmmm" murmurs Dorkindle as next to him, young Hamblin puts the brass, cylindrical eyepiece up to his face, and looks through it.
"Nah, got no fucken boom booms sticking out of it" adds the ork, who still to this day, is the largest member of the wolf tribe.
Hamblin nods in agreement, as he now gets a good look at the vessel in the sky away to the northeast, about  seven or eight miles away, heading slowly north.
"It's definitely not one of ours" says the teenage army recruit from the farming village of Polsten.
"Tis perhaps a trading ship from some distance land?" asks sir Percavellé Lé Dic.
Dorc da Orc scowls at the nobleborn knight who has walked up, and is now standing close by.
"Maybe" says Hamblin, who after a few moments of silence adds "The rigging is a little strange for a trader".
Next to the young teen who is the unofficial leader of the first group of recruits.
The warleader of the ork race says "Well, whoever the fuck they is, they got fucken soldiers or mercs on it".
As the large ork can clearly see that there's a number of armed and armoured men onboard the twin masted airship.
Hamblin who even looking through the eyepiece, is unable to see those onboard as clearly as general Dorc.
Takes the ork weaponsmith's word for it, that there's either soldiers or mercenaries onboard the vessel in the distance.
"Whoever they are, they're flying quite slowly" says Hamblin as he sees that the airship, which is only a couple hundred feet above the ground. Looks like it's weaving from side to side as it heads northwards.
"What are they up to?" quietly says the tall, lean, brown haired recruit who is from a farming family in the village of Polsten.
Hamblin describes what he's seeing, and as the rest of the teenage recruits, along with sir Percavellé Lé Dic wonder what the airship is up to.
Dorkindle grunts when he spots something, and he says "Them cunts are fucken looking for somethin' on the grounds".
The big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world can see some of the crew onboard. As well as some of those who are armed and armoured. Either soldiers or mercenaries. Are looking overboard, and down at the ground.
"Me thinks they may be up to no good, wot" says the former earl of Lé Dic after the ork warleader explains what he's seeing.
"I think you maybe right sir" quietly says Hamblin who nods in agreement with the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic.
The teenager who is the unofficial leader of the first group, looks at the other nine recruits, then the two instructors. The ork general and the foreign knight.
It's Maselle who asks what her and the rest of the recruits are thinking.
"What should we do?" asks Maselle, who like Hamblin, will end up in one of the scouts and rangers division in the armies of Farque.
The young teen from the farming village of Polsten, is silent for a few moments, then says "Continue out patrol".
The member of the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che nods, then says "That is the orders, so that's the thing to do, wot".
Dorc da Orc, who would normally disagree with the former paladin just for the hell of it, because he hates him.
Grunts in agreement with the heavily armoured knight, then says "Yeah what the cuntface knight say". When Hamblin looks at him for his opinion.
The young teen who is the unofficial leader of the first of the four groups of young army recruits from across the northwest of the lands Farque.
Who have spent most of the winter living and training in the forest town of Gildin Dale this winter, before coming out to the coast.
Waves Jinsa ahead to continue scouting, then says to the others "Come on lets keep moving".
After a brief pause, Hamblin adds "We'll keep an eye on that airship and see what it gets up to". As they resume their patrol, and continue northwards along the coast, here in the unruled lands to the north of the border . . . . . .

The General & The Knight 36.

Winter. The Border.

"You'll go to about here" says Kolmic, the garrison commander here in Halmard.
"Then circle around, and head back to the border, and here" adds the commander. Who then looks at those he's talking to. He's glad to see the recruits are paying attention.
He then wryly smiles as he sees their two instructors are too busy eyeing one another. To pay any attention to the garrison commander, as well as the maps on the table.
"You get that sir Percavellé?" asks Kolmic, a broad shoulder individual in his early thirties. From the very south of the lands Farque. Who has been the garrison commander here in Halmard for the last year.
"I did indeed good fellow" says sir Percavellé Lé Dic, who finally takes his eyes off his bitter rival Dorc da Orc, who is scowling at him.
Kolmic's eyebrows rise up in surprise when the nobleborn knight says "We are to go all the way up here" as he points at a spot on one of the maps, then he adds "Then circle back, going inland, before we come back here to the border".
Apparently the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic was paying attention.
You wouldn't think so. As he's gone back to staring at the large ork who is his longtime rival.
"And you general?" asks the Halmard garrison commander.
"What the cunt knight say" replies Dorc da Orc with a nod of his head at his bitter rival, sir Percavellé Lé Dic.
The ork general takes his eyes off the heavily armoured knight, then points at the map as he says "Up fucken here on the coast".
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world, makes a circular motion whilst pointing at the map, then continues with "Go in, then come back fucken down to here".
The ork weaponsmith then grunts, and goes back to scowling at the Druvician knight. Who he's in a bitter rivalry with.
The garrison commander Kolmic arches an eyebrow as he first looks at the large ork, then the foreign knight.
"Hell" mutters Kolmic the garrison commander in the elven language, who continues on muttering in the same language with "Hope i don't regret this".
As he's decided to send both of the instructors. Dorc da Orc and sir Percavellé Lé Dic.
Along with the recruits, who are going on patrol north of the border for the first time by themselves.
They've gone in groups of five, with soldiers from the garrison here in Halmard. Both mounted, and on foot.
But this is the first time the first group of recruits who for most of the winter have been living and training in the forest town of Gildin Dale.
Will be going north of the border by themselves. Though they'll have the ork general and the nobleborn knight along for company.
That's if you can call two bickering rivals company. But nevertheless, Dorc da Orc and sir Percavellé Lé Dic will be going along with the teenage army recruits when they head north out of the town of Halmard. And across the border, into the unruled lands to the north.
The garrison commander Kolmic after one last glance at the big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world. And the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic. As the two of them are glaring at one another once more.
He says to the ten teenagers who are from throughout northwestern Farque, and have undergone basic army training this winter "I shall expect you ready and out in the yard before dawn tomorrow morning".
The garrison commander continues with "The supply officer will have everything extra you will need" followed by "Make sure you have that and more".
Commander Kolmic whose garrison here in Halmard patrols the border, among other things, then says "No roads up there" he follows that with "And hardly any trails" then he adds "It's slower going up there, so take more than what you think you'll need".
The garrison commander looks at each of the teenage recruits of the first group, who have been here in Halmard for the last week and a bit, and asks them "Understand?".
They do, and reply that they do. Kolmic the commander of the garrison here in Halmard doesn't bother asking the nobleborn knight and the ork warleader the same question.
Instead he says to the ten recruits of the first group "First thing in the morning then" followed by "Dismissed".
The teenagers, who are from throughout northwestern Farque file out of the main room in the garrison building.
And are followed by two of their instructors. Dorc da Orc or Dorkindle which is his given name. And sir Percavellé Lé Dic, or Percy as he's more commonly called by those who know him well.
It's early evening, and the teenage army recruits along with the general and the knight.
Head to the refractory, between the garrison building and the barracks. To get something to eat and drink as the evening meal is already served.
The ten teenagers of the first group have had a long day of training. And early tomorrow morning they'll set off on a fairly long patrol.
Though they'll be going on patrol by themselves for the first time since they've been here in the border town of Halmard.
Even with general Dorc and the knight Lé Dic. It will basically be them, the recruits by themselves.
As their training this winter is coming to an end. For this weekend coming up. On seventh day to be exact. Is the very first day of spring.
Though here on the coast, it feels like it's been spring for the last few weeks.
It certainly has been for the recruits of the first group. Who have been here in the border town of Halmard for coming up on ten days.
It's early the next morning, well before dawn. It's dark as the teenage recruits of the first group gather in the yard out infront of the barracks.
As they line up, a yawning sir Percavellé Lé Dic comes out of the barracks. All bleary eyed as he drags his pack over his shoulders and onto his back.
The former paladin who is carrying his shield, looks around in the dark yard. That's barely lit by a single lantern on one end of the barracks.
The nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic frowns as he doesn't spot someone who has been sleeping out here in the yard most nights.
Also noticing that, that individual is missing, Kolmic the garrison commander quietly says in elven to the subaltern who has walked over to stand beside him "Where's the general?".
"The duty guards on the wall said he left town in the middle of the night" replies the subaltern in the same language as one of the sergeant at arms checks all the recruits packs. To make sure that they've got everything they need for their patrol.
"Went north across the border" adds the subaltern who continues with "Told the duty guards he was getting a head start" he briefly pauses before saying "Not so succinctly, it was more descriptive as you can imagine".
"I can imagine" dryly says the garrison commander of the border town of Halmard.
Who like all Farqians, had heard about the large ork who is one of their lord's traveling companions.
Who is surprised his lord has tolerated the big, burly ork from the southern polar region for two decades.
Commander Kolmic has only known the ork warleader for a little over ten days. And he thinks that's too long already.
Then there's sir Percavellé Lé Dic, who doesn't smell like the ork general. Nor does he do such outrageous things as the ork weaponsmith.
But all the same, the former paladin is just as annoying, if not more so, than his bitter rival Dorc da Orc.
The member of the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che. Goes on and on, usually about himself, or his bitter rival, the ork warleader.
In his pompous voice, in quite a deeming tone. That for some reason, it makes you feel guilty for something you didn't do.
Commander Kolmic is surprised his lord hasn't killed both of them over the years. As the two of them could try the patience of a saint.
It's one of the reasons the garrison commander is sending them both with the group of teenage recruits.
For the simple reason they're trying his patience whilst here in Halmard.
The other reason is because if something goes wrong. And the patrol runs into any trouble.
Those two, who commander Kolmic considers to both be raving lunatics. Can handle just about anyone, and anything that might cause trouble for the patrol.
The garrison commander looks over at the sergeant at arms, who has finished his inspection.
After the sergeant nods to him, commander Kolmic says in common "You know your orders" followed by "Recruit Hamblin lead the way".
"Yes commander" says the teenage recruit Hamblin who heads off, making his way out of the yard, followed by the rest of the first group of recruits.
Who have spent most of the winter, living and training in the forest town of Gildin Dale.
And now here in the coastal border town of Halmard at the very end of winter.
As he follows behind the group of teenage army recruits, sir Percavellé Lé Dic stops infront of the garrison commander and the subaltern and asks them "I say chaps, you haven't seen that bloated pile of dung, who thinks of himself as a general?" followed by "I do believe the foul one is supposed to be coming along with us, but no doubt his grotesqueness, is skiving off somewhere, wot"
"The general left earlier" replies commander Kolmic who continues on with "To scout the way ahead".
The former earl of Lé Dic, which is his family's fief in eastern Druvic, snorts in derision, then says "More like he's gone off to get drunk and go whoring with strange animals, wot".
Both the garrison commander and the subaltern wince at that. As that's a distinct possibility.
Amongst the sealed orders that came with the recruits from Gildin Dale. Was a missive from field commander Tamric Drubine. To keep an eye on general Dorc. And to keep him away from any of the livestock in town, and on the nearby farms.
Though no doubt since he's already gone over the border. The large ork is now free to do as he pleases. When it comes to any animal, domesticated or otherwise.
Commander Kolmic nods in the direction of the departing group of teenagers, and says to the foreign knight "Keep an eye on the recruits sir Percavellé".
"Of course good fellow" says the nobleborn knight who continues on with "You can trust, i, the great sir Percavellé, the most gallant of all knights to be found in this world" followed by "Wot".
The garrison commander and the subaltern share a look after the former paladin waves farewell to them.
Then follows after the ten teenage recruits, who are heading to the north side of the border town of Halmard. Walking through the darkness before dawn.
And though all recruits who come here to the coastal town of Halmard at the end of their training.
Are sent out on patrol, basically by themselves, north of the border.
This is the first time any of them. Not just in recent memory. But for all time, that a group of recruits will go across the border in the company of a rather talkative foreign knight. Who isn't actually in any of their lord's armies. As well as an ork, who is a general in the armies of their lord.
The sergeant at arms at the wall, has a quick word with Hamblin at the front of the group, then he waves the recruits on.
"Capital good fellow" says sir Percavellé Lé Dic to the sergeant at arms in command of the duty guards at the wall this morning.
"And good morning to you sir Percavellé" replies the sergeant at arms.
"Quite" says the former paladin as he follows the last of the teenage recruits, and walks out across the border, into the unruled lands.
The nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic, whose family's fief is in the east of that particular kingdom.
Hurries forward along the line of march. As away to the east, the first light of dawn is on the horizon.
The member of the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che gets to the front, where Hamblin the recruit has just sent his fellow recruit Maselle up ahead to scout for a bit.
As they head north, walking just up from the beaches along the shoreline.
The heavily armoured knight in the gloomy predawn light asks the recruit Hamblin "I say youngster, are we expecting people to be about?" followed by "Wot".
"Not for some time sir Percavellé" is the reply from Hamblin the teenage recruit.
The former paladin who paid attention yesterday to where they're going when commander Kolmic explained what they'll be doing on patrol, and pretty much nothing else.
Who doesn't actually know how things stand on this side of the border.
Grunts as young Hamblin tells him "No one lives close to the border up here" followed by "The first settlement is close to forty miles away up the coast".
Which is their destination, as they're to observe it without the inhabitants knowing of their presence.
Then they're to circle inland for a distance, before heading back south to the border, and the coastal town of Halmard.
"We might see some fishing boats out on the water that come down the coast" says Hamblin who continues on with "The only others we're likely to see might be travelers heading south to the kingdom of Melaurn".
The nobleborn knight grunts again, as it sounds like the patrol here north of the border will probably be uneventful.
The former earl of Lé Dic, looks away to their right, away to the east, where it's getting lighter as the sun starts to rise up on one of the last days of winter.
Where here on the coast of the Southlands, it already feels mild. And no doubt will end up feeling like a warm spring day.
While away to their left, where it's still relatively dark, they can hear the surf, and waves lapping at the shoreline.
With Hamblin, the teenage recruit from the farming village of Polsten, along with the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic.
Leading the way as they head north, they soon come upon Maselle at the end of some headlands, jutting out into the ocean about a mile and a half north of the border.
And as the sun rises in the east, Maselle the teenage recruit says "Thought i heard him over the surf". As she points down in a sandy bay, north of the headlands.
Sir Percavellé Lé Dic sourly smiles, then says in a tone to match his smile "Leave him there".
Followed in a loud mutter with "Hopefully the tide will come in and wash him away" he continues muttering with "Or at least wash him somewhat clean, wot".
In the prevailing light of dawn, they see Dorc da Orc sprawled out on the sands of the bay.
Fast asleep with empty wine and beer barrels scattered around him.
Hamblin who is just wondering how to wake the large ork, after all he's supposed to be coming with them.
Says to the others "The general should wake up pretty soon" followed by "The tide is coming in, and he won't want to get wet".
Sir Percavellé Lé Dic grins as they head down to the sandy bay, where the ork warleader is fast asleep.
He's looking forward to the prospect of his bitter rival getting wet. As that always puts the large ork in a foul mood.
The former paladin is in a good mood as he and the group of teenage army recruits wait for the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world to wake up . . . . . .

The General & The Knight 35.

Winter. Garcyl. Northwest Farque.

Garcyl is a fishing village along the coast of the lands Farque. In the northwest, about forty miles south of the border town of Halmard.
It's on a small, crescent shaped bay, where the water is a little bit deeper than much of the coastline along this part of the coast.
Even so, most of the bay has a sandy beach along the length of it. With the piers of the village situated towards the northern end of the small, crescent shaped bay.
As some of the fishing boats go out just before dawn. On what looks and feels like is a mild, almost spring like morning.
About halfway along the beach, a figure sits cross legged in the sand, facing out towards the ocean. As behind him the first rays of sunshine can just been seen as the sun starts coming up in the east.
The figure sits there in his strange looking white clothing. With his eyes closed.
While beside him on the sand is a strange conical shaped hat. Certainly the only one of it's kind in the nation of Farque. And in all likelihood, probably the only one like it in all of the Southlands.
Yawning as he looks out the window, out towards the ocean. Tamric Drubine who woke up as quietly as he could. So as not to wake up his lover Saanea the witch.
Looks down at the beach, and away to the right at the nearby piers.
And sees that most of the fishing boats have already left. While onboard one of the two patrol ships in dock. The crew is preparing for this morning's training.
The second and third groups of teenage recruits who have been living and training in the forest town of Gildin Dale this winter.
Are here in the fishing village of Garcyl. Where at the end of winter, they're finishing off their training.
The nobleborn teenager originally from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin. Yawns again, then looks the other way down the bay.
Where in the first light of day, he spots a figure sitting about halfway along the white sandy beach.
The young field commander in the armies of Farque. Who is in charge of the training for the young teenage army recruits in this region of northwestern Farque.
Slightly frowns as he looks at the lone figure sitting on the beach. Tamric Drubine or Tam as he's more commonly called by those who know him well.
Nods his head as he realises it's Shur Kee the monk sitting on the beach by himself.
Field commander Drubine isn't surprised at that. As the short, statured monk from the far east coast of the continent is often up far earlier than everyone else.
As he meditates every morning before the first light of dawn.
Though what got Tam frowning is that he's pretty certain that for the briefest of moments.
He saw the figure of Shur Kee not actually sitting on the sand. But just above it, floating.
And that the physical adept who is a member of the philosophical order of Bru Li, was within a sphere of almost, clear white light.
The son and former heir of a previous knight of castle Drubine, which is found in the forested north of the kingdom of Sarcrin.
Blinks a few times, then after yawning once again, shakes his head.
As he must of been mistaken. For with it getting lighter outside as the sun rises away to the east.
He can clearly see the figure of Shur Kee the monk sitting on the sand. Eyes closed no doubt, facing out to the west, out at the ocean.
Tamric Drubine who is a senior officer in the armies of Farque goes to turn away.
But he takes one last look at Shur Kee down on the beach. After he does, and sees that the short, statured monk is still sitting there on the sand.
The young field commander turns, and goes to wake up his lover Saanea. As the teenage recruits have another long day of training ahead of them today.
Later, and the second group of recruits are on the beach. Running back and forth to either end of the crescent shaped bay.
To the more open, curving southern tip of the bay. Back to the northern end. Which is tighter in, and where the water is deeper. The reason why the piers are at that end of the bay.
The beach is about a hundred and forty yards in total. And the recruits of both the second and third groups.
Especially the second group, as they're on it this morning.
Absolutely hate running back and forth along the white sandy beach.
As it drags down on the their legs. Especially considering what else they have to do after they complete their run.
The recruits who have been here in Garcyl for about five days. Are glad about one thing since being here in the fishing village.
They're glad that they've been part of the winter intake of teenage recruits here in the northwest of Farque. Who are based in the forest town of Gildin Dale.
As they've found out that those who do the training in the summertime in Gildin Dale.
Spend nearly a whole month out here on the coast. Which might sound idyllic and tranquil considering the surrounds.
But considering the training they've undertaken over the last five days here in Garcyl. That couldn't be further from the truth.
Halfway along the beach, not far from where he saw Shur Kee the monk sitting at dawn.
Tamric Drubine waits for the second group to run back this way. As they're a loose bunch towards the docks at the moment.
And they'll soon turn around, and head back along the beach in this direction.
The recruits of the second group, along with the third when they've done the beach run.
Have learnt not to get too far spread out. And to keep as a group.
If not, their instructors will prolong their efforts on the beach. And make them run it again from one end to another.
Which is more than annoying, considering each time they do the beach run. They have to run the entire length of the bay, back and forth at least ten times.
As the recruits of the second group turn and make their way back this way.
Field commander Drubine takes a quick look out to sea. Where about a half a mile from shore.
Is the patrol ship that the third group of recruits are onboard this morning.
They're learning to stop and board other vessels.
Practicing on any of the fishing boats that come back into the bay from checking their nets and pots.
The locals take it in their stride, and with much suppressed laughter. As the young teenage recruits, a couple of whom are actually from here in Garcyl.
Learn to stop and search other vessels. As this is a task some of them may have to undertake if they get assigned to the ships that patrol along the coast of their lord's lands.
Tam then looks back at the beach, and sees the recruits of the second group approaching.
The nobleborn teenager from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin, who is only five years older than the oldest of the young teenage army recruits.
Points to the water as the recruits of the second group get close.
"You'll find the marker to the south" says Tamric Drubine the field commander to the recruits after they come to a stop infront of him.
The senior officer in the armies of Farque who doesn't tell them exactly how far away to the marker it is, continues with "Alisian will be there, to make sure you all complete it".
The teenage water elemental spouter is also there to get any of the other recruits out of trouble if they get into any.
Tam and the other instructors want to push the young army recruits to their limits, and beyond them.
But they don't want to drown any of them. Which is a distinct possibility with what they're about to do.
Alisian has already saved some of the recruits of both the second and third groups so far this week.
Especially the first time they undertook this training exercise. One of the most physically demanding they've done all winter.
The teenage recruits know they don't have a time limit on what they're about to do.
So they all take a bit of time to get their breath back after the beach run.
Eventually one of them makes their way down to the water. Followed by another, and another, then another.
Eventually all ten teenagers in the second group make their way into the water.
And though it's still winter. The water in the bay isn't particularly cold. Just like most of the beaches along the northern end of the coast of the lands Farque.
The sandy bottom isn't that deep in this half of the beach. And it takes quite a few steps to even get to waist height in the water.
The teenagers, all thirteen and fourteen year olds. The oldest of whom will be fifteen in the spring time.
Stop and look down into the water. Where they find ten large rocks, roughly about the size of a small cask.
The recruits each bend down, and pick one up. Which weighs between twenty and thirty pounds.
They carry the rocks with them, heading deeper out into the bay.
One by one, they all take a deep breath when the water is about to get head high.
Then each of the teenage recruits of the second group. Duck down below the surface of the water.
And start running along the sandy bottom. Heading south as they keep parallel with the beach.
Tamric Drubine walks south along the beach in the bay. Keeping pace with the ten teenage recruits in the water.
One by one they resurface, to take a quick deep breath. Before they duck down beneath the surface of the water, and continue running again.
The young field commander who himself did this training exercise the first time one of the two groups here in Garcyl tried it.
Can attest to how difficult it is. Infact Tam found it excruciating painful.
Holding one's breath. While trying to run along the ocean floor. While carrying a twenty to thirty pound rock.
And like him, they all drop the heavy rock. Which they have to pick up again. As they're carrying the rocks to an underwater marker.
This particularly training exercise. Which is actually devised by, and used by water elementals. In their human forms, when they're very young, toddlers, or small children really.
And though they have the advantage of breathing below the surface in their human form.
When you're only four years old. Carrying a rock underwater that weighs just as much as you do.
It's a very difficult task for a young water elemental in their human form.
The nobleborn teenager originally from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin.
Whose father was a previous knight of castle Drubine. Which is located in the forested north of that particular nation.
Winces in sympathy as more than one of the teenage recruits burst up through the surface.
Gasping for air, and who no doubt their muscles are burning like hell from what they're doing.
Trying to carry the heavy rocks beneath the surface of the water out in the bay.
The teenage recruits of the second of four groups, who have been based in the forest town of Gildin Dale this winter.
Know that the marker must be some distance from where they began. As the distance they usually go along the ocean floor. Is between thirty and fifty yards.
Not this morning. As the recruit in the lead as they make their way south.
Has yet to even spot the marker beneath the surface of the water.
And he, like the rest the ten recruits of the second group. Figure the marker must be at the southern tip of the bay.
Over seventy yards from where they got in the water. And started this part of their training exercise this morning.
They're not far wrong with that. For indeed the marker is near that end of the bay.
Where under the surface. A glass buoy attached to a rope, which is affixed to a fairly heavy rock. Is floating beneath the surface of the water.
As the surface for the most part is fairly calm here in the crescent shaped bay.
Where the water is clear blue, and not that cold, even though it's still actually winter.
Not seen by the recruits, is another of their fellow recruits. The water elemental spouter, Alisian.
Who is in his favourite form at the moment, water. That matches the water here close to the shore in the bay.
The young water elemental is always amazed when they do this exercise. At how difficult it is for his fellow recruits.
It gives him an appreciation of the advantages he has over them. Even in his human form.
In his water form, roughly man shaped at the moment.
Alisian winces in sympathy as he watches the teenage army recruits struggling beneath the surface as they head his way.
And though the water elemental spouter is here to see if each of the recruits of the second group make it to the glass buoy floating just beneath the surface of the water.
He actually has a more important task. And that's to keep his fellow recruits from drowning. And to keep them alive.
Alisian watches as many of them drop the rock they're carrying. And head up to break the surface of the water before they run out of air in their lungs.
Heads above water, they take in deep breathes, before diving back down. Retrieve their rock, and run along the sandy bottom of the bay again.
Those who know how to hold their breath the longest under water. Are the ones who don't have to go up for air as often.
Though they're the ones most likely to keep into trouble beneath the surface of the waves.
As they hold their breath for too long. And before they know it, they start to black out. Which will lead to them drowning if Alisian wasn't watching them, keeping an eye on them.
Fortunately this morning, none of them black out. Though a few come close to it. Before they quickly drop their rock and head up to the surface for air.
But eventually, one by one. They reach the underwater marker. Where they drop their rocks for the last time. Then head into shore. On what's a mild end of winter's day.
Here on the coast, it feels more like the middle of spring than it does winter.
Much to the relief of the recruits of the second group. Who struggle back to the beach at the southern tip of the bay.
Some of them stand up and stagger through the shallower water to the sands of the beach.
While others once they're in the shallows, crawl to the beach.
Where they lie on the sand, gasping for breath. As Alisian the water elemental spouter walks out of the water behind them in his human form.
To join field commander Drubine who is standing higher up on the beach.
The senior officer in the armies of Farque glances at the water elemental spouter. Who informs him that all the recruits made it to the marker with their rocks.
Tam nods, and later will have Alisian take all those rocks back to halfway up the length of the bay.
As the third group will do the same training exercise this afternoon when they return on the patrol ship that's out about half a mile from the shore.
Looking at the teenage recruits in their under clothes, trying to recover as they lie there.
The nobleborn teenager originally from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin has sympathy for them.
As they're in their last week or so together. Where their training is more difficult than ever.
The only advantage being the weather is nicer, and warmer out here on the coast.
Compared to what they've endured throughout the winter in the forest town of Gildin Dale.
The young field commander looks back up the bay towards the village of Garcyl.
And spots his lover Saanea's familiar. An osprey at the moment, as that's the form it favours when it's the air, here on the coast.
Fly into the village from the north, and drop down out of view.
Tam who has Saanea keep an eye on the other two groups of recruits here on the coast.
The fourth group down in the fishing village of  Paserin Bay. And the first group up in the border town of Halmard.
Knows that it's just come back from checking on one of the other groups of teenage army recruits he's in charge of.
"Get your armour and gear on" says Tamric Drubine to the recruits of the second group.
"Then head into the village for the midday meal" adds the young field commander, who follows that with "You'll be out on the patrol ship this afternoon with councillor Kee".
The recruits of the second group are relieved to hear that. And as they get to their feet. And start heading back to the village.
Field commander Drubine is already heading that way, in search of Saanea the witch.
To see what her familiar has been watching of the first group. As it's just come back from up north along the coast, back from the border town of Halmard . . . . . .

The General & The Knight 34.

Winter. Halmard. The Lands Farque.

Half of the group of teenage recruits who arrived in the border town of Halmard a couple of days ago.
Ride out on patrol just after dawn. Heading south along the coast road.
The foreign knight, Sir Percavellé Lé Dic goes with them.
For the simple reason he's an excellent horseman. But more importantly, the garrison commander thinks it's best that the former paladin is separated from the other instructor who arrived in town with the teenage recruits.
Dorc da Orc watches the patrol ride out of town. More than a little envious that they get to do so.
As he would of liked to of gone with them, just to be around the horses.
It's the reason he's still in town with the five other teenage army recruits. Who are making their way towards the stretch of beach on the west side of town.
The large ork doesn't particularly want to go down near the water with them.
But he decides to do so anywhere. As he sees the undead wardog Axe sitting in the shade on one side of the garrison building watching him.
The ork warleader who is a general in the armies of Farque sourly smiles as he looks sideways at the massive canine.
Who stole his dead bear just after they arrived in town. And the Farqian wardog took it out into the ocean. Much to the disgust of the ork weaponsmith. Who no way in hell, was going to go out there and retrieve it.
Refraining from calling Axe a fucken mutt. Just incase the undead wardog takes affront to it. And decides to bite off one of his legs or arms.
Dorc da Orc or Dorkindle which is his given name. Makes his way from near the barracks which is on the west side of town. And makes way down to the beach.
The border town of Halmard is split in two by the coast road, that ends, or begins depending on which way you're coming from, on the north side of town.
The west side of town is dominated by the garrison barracks, along with their stables and other various outbuildings.
While the docks, are also a major factor on that side of town.
Though docks is a more than generous description. As it's actually a single long pier at the north end of the curving beach. A pier that goes out into the ocean nearly a hundred yards.
It's built like a sea wall, made from rock. Though the top of it is actually wood.
Tied up to it at the moment are a few fishing boats, as well as a patrol ship. One of three that are based here in the border town of Halmard.
There's also a small airdock on the southwest corner of town. Which at the moment there's no airships in.
The warleader of the ork race makes his way down onto the white sand beach.
And after looking in disgust at the ocean, where the waves are lapping at the shore.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world. Who figures, correctly as it turns out. That the sands of the beach will be a total bitch in the heat at the height of summer.
Turns right, and heads north along the beach towards the pier. Which goes out into the ocean for quite a bit because the water is fairly shallow close into shore.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks stops about thirty yards from the pier.
On which, are the five teenage recruit, who have remained in town this morning. Hamblin, Maselle, Jinsa, Garmon and Dammis.
They're with a few of the soldiers from the garrison here in Halmard.
One of whom the ork general knows fairly well. As he served with him in a war over fifteen months ago.
In the north of the kingdom of Nastell.
Where one of the armies of Farque were hired by the robber barons in the unruled lands in The Colevar Mountains.
Who went to war against the duke of Phelm in northern Nastell.
"Morning general" says the scout Varric who has made his way off the pier, and joined the large ork on the sands.
The warleader of the ork race just grunts in reply to the senior scout he fought alongside during the campaign in northern Nastell.
Then pointing at the teenage army recruits about halfway along the pier, Dorc da Orc asks "What them cunts gonna do?". As the five recruits have stripped down to their under clothes. 
"Into the water" replies Varric, who like all Farqian soldiers, is in a black uniform, and predominantly black armour.
The big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world winces when he hears that, then he loudly mutters "Fuck that".
The senior scout beside him points back down the beach, and explains to the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks "They'll swim down to there, get out and run back up the beach to the pier".
The soldier who is his mid twenties, and is a member of the Farqian army, that was the first in four and half centuries to be hired out into a foreign war, continues on with "They'll do that five times as quickly as they can".
Dorc grimaces at that, as the recruits swim is at least a hundred yards. Though he suspects they'll run at least the last twenty five or so yards because the water is so shallow close into the shore.
"Once they've completed it five times, they'll be given some mental exercises and equations they will have to answer correctly" explains Varric, who continues on with "Each one they fail, they'll have to do another swim".
The senior scout, who is also from here in northwestern Farque, who remembers his time here in Halmard when he was a teenage recruit, dryly adds "Trust me, they will want to get each one correct".
The son of the previous matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks, whose skull is tied to his wide, waist belt.
Grunts when he hears that, then general Dorc physically shivers, and says "Fucken yucks".
As the five teenage army recruits, as a group, jump off the pier and into the water.
And they start swimming in the winter ocean water, which here in the very north of the lands Farque.
Isn't all that cold for this time of the year. Infact it's barely cool. For most of the year, the waters along the northern stretch of the Farqian coast is warm.
Dorc da Orc, who this winter, has been based in the forest town of Gildin Dale. As one of the instructors for the four groups of teenage army recruits who are from the northwest of the lands Farque.
Shakes his rather large head as he watches the five teenagers swimming through the waters just off the beach here in Halmard.
The large ork who is a general in the armies of Farque. Hasn't understood some of the training the teenage recruits have undergone this winter.
But he can definitely see the effect it's had on all of them. As they all swim fairly quickly through the water.
They're all physical fit. Even though they're only thirteen and fourteen years old.
And to him, what they're doing now. Swimming in the ocean just off the shore from the border town of Halmard.
Is his opinion the most difficult thing for them to do.
It's not. For him it would be. But not the teenage army recruits.
Though doing it a number of times. Then immediately doing a number of exercises and equations they have to get correct. Is rather difficult indeed.
Breathing heavily, Hamblin the teenage recruit grabs Dammis by the arm, and hauls him up out of the water.
The smaller teenage boy, who is breathing just as heavily as Hamblin, nods his thanks.
Then the two of them run into shore, as the water is shallow along this part of the beach.
When they run out of the water, they turn and run back up along the beach.
And though the swim is difficult, especially considering this time was the fifth time they've done it this morning.
It doesn't compare to what they're doing right now. Which is running on the soft white sand back to the pier at the northern end of the beach.
The five teenage recruits who didn't go out on patrol this morning. Find the run along the sand much more difficult than the swim.
Simply because it feels like it's dragging down upon their legs. As they continue to train this morning under the watchful eyes of three of the soldiers from the town's garrison.
And the not so watchful eye of one of their instructors. The ork general, Dorc da Orc.
Who is sitting on the beach. And who, when Hamblin and Dammis run by him again on their way to the pier.
It looks like the ork weaponsmith is making sand castles of all things.
Which is indeed what the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world is doing.
Though he's making them to resemble one of the many battles he's been in his life.
The two recruits, along with Garmon who is behind them. Follow the two girls Maselle and Jinsa back onto the pier.
Where about halfway along it. Wait a trio of soldiers who are based here in the border town of Halmard.
The five teenage army recruits who have remained here in town this morning.
While the rest of their group went out with a mounted patrol.
Know that the next part of the training exercise will be the difficult part.
They'll have to work out a number of metal exercises and equations. Without the ability to write them down. Where they'll have to give their answers verbally.
Doing so after what they've just done physically. Is going to take some effort.
And if one of them gets something wrong. Then they'll all have to jump into the ocean again, and swim to near the halfway point of the beach. And run back up to the pier. None of them want to do the sand run again.
And as they stand there listening to the subaltern give them the first of the equations to work out.
They hope they don't get it, or any of the following equations wrong.
Leaving the exhausted recruits to work things out.
The senior scout Varric makes his way back down the pier, and onto the beach.
And walks to where Dorc da Orc is sitting making sand castles of all things.
The senior scout stops a few yards away, and looks closely at what the ork warleader is doing.
"A city is it general?" asks Varric the scout who served alongside the large ork over fifteen months ago.
The senior scout briefly pauses before continuing on with "A battle?".
"Yeah cunt" is the reply from Dorc da Orc who then adds "Vexil".
"Ah" says Varric, who has heard that his lord, along with Dorkindle, as well as Mira Reinholt the mage fought at the battle of Vexil, which was nearly twenty years ago.
"We was fucken here" explains the ork general pointing to the west of his sand castle recreation of the city of Vexil.
"Killing every fucker from both sides" says the ork weaponsmith with a chortle.
"That mage cunt" says Dorc da Orc referring to Mira Reinholt, the large ork continues with "Killer" followed by "Joined us there, after them cunts in the city kicked him out".
The big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world is silent for a few moments, as he looks out at the ocean.
Then he looks down at his sand castle recreation of the battle of Vexil, and says "We was just waitin' for the right fucken time to get into the city".
The scout Varric nods his head, as he like every other Farqian. Knows of the many battles, some small. And others large, like the battle of Vexil. That their lord has been in.
Many of which, over the last twenty years or so. The ork warleader has been there beside him.
The senior scout based here in the Halmard garrison. Gets a first hand account. Not to mention, a rather exaggerated account. Of the largest battle in recent memory in the Southlands.
From someone who was in the thick of it. Who fought alongside lord Farque himself. As well as Mira Reinholt the mage. Who was only seventeen years old at the time.
Who in the aftermath of the battle. When they were escaping on an airship. Having stolen the payroll of the Vexilian army.
The young mage turned on lord Farque and Dorc da Orc. Stealing some of the stolen payroll. And destroying the airship they were on.
Varric slightly shakes his head as he listens to the large ork. Who chuckles at some of what he's describing. And growls at some of the other things.
The senior scout who is in his mid twenties. Never thought he'd get to hear about the battle of Vexil by someone who was actually there.
"Need more on the north fucken side" murmurs the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world.
The ork weaponsmith then says "Dorc killed a lot of cunts in that battle" he follows that with "A big fuckhead of a troll, and a elf general cunt he was hanging out with".
The ork who was named warleader by lord Farque. Interestingly in the city of Vexil. Though nearly a decade after the famous battle that saw many of the nations in the central region of the Southlands, go to war against the city-state of Vexil.
Then says to the senior scout "And a fucken prince cunt from some country".
The large ork then loudly mutters in his deep, rumbling and growling voice "Some of his cunts went and catch Dorc years later, and was gonna fucken hangs me" shaking his head, the ork warleader continues muttering with "By Krom, Dorc was fucken lucky as shit to get out of that".
Then looking at the scout standing nearby, and gesturing at his sand castle recreation of the battle of Vexil, Dorkindle says "You know how that fucken battle was won?".
"My lord flung himself into the city by a trebuchet, going through the wards that surrounded it" says Varric the scout who continues with "Then he let you and the mage Reinholt in through a sally port next to the main west gates of the city".
The senior scout based here in the border town of Halmard adds "The invaders attacked the city, which you three helped to defend briefly, when you changed sides. Though you only did so, to create further chaos so you could get to the paymaster general's office of the Vexilian army. Who you robbed".
Dorc da Orc sits there blinking as he looks at the soldier in black. The large ork who is silent for a few moments, then says "How the fuck you know all that shit?".
The son of the previous matriarch of the world tribe of orks continues in a mutter "Dorc don't 'member most of that shit".
With a faint smile upon his face, Varric says to the ork general "I learnt about it when i was younger".
The senior scout follows that with "In our learning centers when we're young, we learn all about what our lord gets up to when he's away from our lands"
Which has been quite a lot over the last twenty years or so. Ever since he found Dorc da Orc. Who had been captured by some of the hill dwarves who live in an area of the hill country that makes up part of the southern border of the lands Farque. Further away to the east, where it abutts the southern tundra.
"Why fuck me" says the ork weaponsmith in astonishment, who then asks "Fucken why?".
"Because he's our lord" replies Varric the scout.
The warleader of the ork race grunts when he hears that. And he falls silent for a few moments as he thinks about how everyone here in the nation of Farque.
Have probably learnt a lot about him too. Considering he's been in the company of the lord and ruler of the lands Farque for about two decades.
The big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world, who doesn't usually contemplate things.
Grunts again, then concentrating on the now, the large ork says "Gots to make it fucken bigger".
Varric who was wondering how Dorc da Orc was making his sand castles, as the sand is fairly soft on the beach.
Looks quickly away, as the ork weaponsmith gets up, drops his pants, and takes a piss on the sand, making it damp, so he can shape more sand castles.
The senior scout, and the ork general as he continues to pee, watch as the teenage recruits all jump off the pier again.
One of them has got one of the equations wrong. Thankfully just one equation. So they only have to swim halfway down the length of the beach. Then run back along the soft sand to the pier just one more time.
Before they can take a break for the midday meal, as they continue the last of their training for the winter.
Here in the border town of Halmard, after previously spending most of the winter in the small, forest town of Gildin Dale . . . . . .

The General & The Knight 33.

Winter. Northwest Farque.

They reach the coast road later that day. Then stay the night in a roadside waystation.
Covered structures, some with walls. Others with just pillars on the corners.
Which can be found throughout the lands of Farque. For those who are traveling, who need shelter.
A unique concept found only in the nation of Farque. Not just within the Southlands. But anywhere else on the world of Volunell.
Hamblin the teenage recruit is up early the next morning. And he makes his way out of the waystation.
Where the group of recruits, along with sir Percavellé Lé Dic spent the night.
The teenager from the farming village of Polsten. Which lies about forty five miles to the southeast of the forest town of Gildin Dale.
Looks across the road, to the ocean just thirty yards away.
Until yesterday afternoon, Hamblin had never seen an ocean before.
And as he stands there in the early morning light of the new day.
He still can't quite believe the vast scope of what he's looking at, The Great Western Ocean.
Which goes for thousands of miles to the west. Until you get to the other major continent on the world of Volunell.
Hamblin knows that the former Holy Norstran Empire which invaded the Southlands four and half centuries ago.
Was from that continent on the otherside of the vast ocean that he's looking at in the early morning light.
He slightly shakes his head at the thought of hundreds of thousands of soldiers crossing The Great Western Ocean.
But they did, and they were nearly victorious in their attempt to conquer The Southlands.
They were finally stopped by a combined army led by his lord. In the battle in which his lord was killed all those years ago.
"My lord wills it" murmurs Hamblin the teenage recruit, who watches the early morning light play off the surface of the water.
Before he makes his way around to the back of the waystation to use the outhouse.
The son of farmers from the village of Polsten screws up his nose. As behind the waystation lies Dorc da Orc.
The ork general is asleep. Thankfully not snoring too loudly. Though he is lying there asleep, hugging the half eaten brown bear to himself.
Both the large ork, and the bear carcass absolutely reek. And Hamblin keeps well away from them as he makes his way to the outhouse.
After they breakfast. The ten teenage army recruits of the first group, who have been living and training in the town of Gildin Dale this winter.
Along with two of their instructors. General Dorc, and the foreign knight, sir Percavellé Lé Dic.
Continue on their way. Heading north along the coast road.
The morning has dawned fine and clear. And out here on the coast. It's noticeably warmer compared to back in the forest further to the east.
Today could easily pass for an early spring day, and not an end of winter day that it actually is.
The only time the temperature drops, is when there's a sustained wind that comes off the ocean, and hits them as they walk along the coastal road.
Apart from that, the morning is rather pleasant. Much to the displeasure of Dorc da Orc. Who wishes it was colder, much colder.
As he's already sweating as he follows behind the group of teenage recruits, and his bitter rival, sir Percavellé Lé Dic.
At the front of the line of march, Hamblin the teenage recruit quietly says in the elven language "We should be there late in the morning" followed by "Definitely before midday".
Next to the teenager who at the age of just thirteen, is the unofficial leader of the first group of recruits who have been based in the forest town of Gildin Dale this winter.
Maselle the teenage recruit nods her head in agreement, and quietly says in the same language "And not too much hassle getting us there".
Hamblin nods, then faintly smiles as Maselle dryly adds "Apart from the general and the knight arguing most of the time" followed by "And that stinking bear carcass the general's got".
Hamblin grimaces at the mention of the half eaten dead bear that the ork warleader continues to drag around with him everywhere they go.
The teenager from the farming village of Polsten is pretty sure he can smell it from up here.
And he's more than seventy yards infront of the ork weaponsmith who is at the rear of the line of march.
They continue walking throughout the morning.
And away to their left, they see white sand beaches here and there along the coastline.
Hamblin figures it will be lovely to go out and swim there in the warmer months.
He figures you can probably do so in the early spring. As it's far warmer here on the coast, compared to the vast forest away to the east.
And the farmland where he's from, which is even further east of the forest.
While away to their right, on the inland side of the coast road.
They start seeing homes dotted here and there. Farmhouses, on the cultivated land that serves the town of Halmard.
Which is on the border with the unruled lands to the north. Which isn't all that far away.
And which is their destination. After they've traveled by themselves. Along with two of their instructors. From the forest town of Gildin Dale.
Hamblin glances back, as Dorc da Orc has just shouted out something.
"What was that?" asks the teenager who is from a farming family, who live in the village of Polsten.
"What did he say?" adds the unofficial leader of the first group of teenage recruits.
"Horsey" says Jinsa the teenage recruit, who is walking alongside sir Percavellé Lé Dic, just behind Hamblin and Maselle.
Switching to the common language, Hamblin calls back to the ork warleader with "Where general?".
"Fucken thataway!" shouts Dorc da Orc gesturing in the direction they're heading.
"Comin' fucken this way" adds the large ork, who has caught the scent of a number of horses and their riders heading south along the coast road.
"No doubt a patrol from the garrison at Halmard" says Hamblin the teenage recruit.
That's exactly what it is. As they find out a little bit later. And they're met by a mounted patrol from the border town.
Light cavalry in one of their lord's armies, who are on patrol. They've been expecting the recruits and their instructors.
And after briefly speaking with riders in black. The teenage army recruits continue on their way.
As do the patrol, who continue southwards along the coast road.
As they walk north, the group of ten recruits who have been living and training in the forest town of Gildin Dale this winter.
Along with two of their instructors, Dorc da Orc and sir Percavellé Lé Dic.
Soon see the small town of Halmard in the distance to the north.
As a farmer and his wife goes by them on their wagon, wishing them a good day, as they go back south to their farm.
Keeping a eye on the ork warleader as they do so. As he pays an awful lot of attention upon their two horses, hauling their wagon.
"Any idea what we'll be doing?" quietly asks Maselle in the elven language. As they were only given a broad outline by field commander Tamric Drubine, at what they'll be doing whilst in the border town of Halmard.
"Not really" is the reply from Hamblin in the same language, who continues on with "I guess we'll be going out on patrols while we're here".
The teenage boy from the farming village of Polsten then adds "As to what specific training we'll be doing" he follows on with "I've no idea".
As they get closer to the town of Halmard, which they see, the coast road goes through the middle of.
Dorc da Orc who is at the rear of the line of march, who is getting low on both booze, and bear meat.
Slightly frowns as he walks, then the large ork who is repeatedly sniffing, as he tends to do when he comes to somewhere new.
Suddenly comes to stop as he's caught the scent of something in the town just up ahead.
"The fuck?" loudly says the ork weaponsmith, who then grunts as Garmon who is about twenty five feet infront of that ork warleader, looks back at him, and asks "What is it general?".
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world, just sourly smiles in reply to the largest, and oldest of the teenage recruits. Not just in that first group who have been based in Gildin Dale this winter. But all four groups of teenage recruits too.
They find out a short time later what's got the ork general's attention.
When they get to the barracks of the small garrison based here in Halmard.
And they find lying out in the sunshine in the yard infront of the adjoining stables, is the undead wardog Axe.
Who remained in Gildin Dale when they left earlier in the week.
They find out a little bit later, the massive canine arrived in the border town a couple of days ago.
And by the looks of things, he's been waiting for them to arrive here in Halmard.
They're at liberty for the rest of the day. The only time they'll get off whilst here in the small town that's on the border with the unruled lands to the north.
Hamblin who reminded sir Percavellé Lé Dic to hand their orders to the garrison commander.
Who waited around, and made sure the nobleborn knight actually did so.
Explores the town that he and the rest of the first group of recruits have been sent to.
Both in the company of one or two others in the group, or by himself.
As he like the rest of the teenage army recruits want to see what the border town is like.
As this is the first time any of the teenagers have been here.
And most of them, with the exception of Claradene and Lamis. Have never even been out to the coast before.
There's a wall on the north side of town, and Hamblin climbs the steps to the top of the wall. Which is basically battlements. Similar to what you'd find in a walled city, or a castle.
On top of the wall, Hamblin looks back down, and into the town of Halmard when he hears a commotion.
The teenager from the farming village of Polsten grins when he sees Axe running by, down on one of the streets, here on the north side of town.
The undead wardog has the half eaten brown bear belonging to Dorc da Orc between his jaws.
Hamblin then spots a huffing and puffing ork general come into view.
Chasing after Axe, yelling at the undead wardog as he tries to retrieve the carcass of the bear he killed a few mornings ago.
"Good luck trying to get that back general" wryly murmurs Hamblin the teenage army recruit.
Who then spots a laughing sir Percavellé Lé Dic following after his bitter rival, the ork warleader.
Hamblin watches them until they all go out of view. Then he turns, and looks away to the north, into the unruled lands in that direction.
There, the lands that are not in his nation. Don't look all that different than what he's seen here along the coast of the lands Farque.
The only real difference is that there's no road there. As the coast road ends here in Halmard.
The teenager from the farming village of Polsten is just wondering if anyone north of the border, lives nearby.
When Maselle makes her way along the top of the wall, and joins him as he looks out to the north.
"Think anyone over there, lives close to here?" quietly asks Hamblin the teenage recruit.
"Doesn't look like it" replies Maselle the teenage recruit who continues with "Jinsa says her father has told here, that he and his patrols travel days up north before they encounter people".
Their fellow recruit Jinsa, is from a forest village on the northern border, about a hundred miles to the east of Gildin Dale.
And her father, who is a master archer. Is a ranger in their lord's armies.
"Though I'm guessing it might be different here on the coast" adds Maselle.
Hamblin nods in agreement, then says "Especially with the travelers they get out here at times".
Here on the coast of the nation of Farque. On land, air and just off the coast, out in the ocean.
You're likely to encounter foreigners who are making their way south to the kingdom of Melaurn, which is over fifteen hundred miles to the south of the northern border of the lands Farque.
The largest nation in all the Southlands, which is far larger from west to east, than it is from north to south. As it's over four thousand miles wide from the coast to it's border to the east.
"That's how sir Percavellé first came here" says Maselle, who after a pause adds "Kind of".
As she along with the rest of the recruits living and training in the town of Gildin Dale this winter.
Have heard the former paladin tell them about his first trip to the lands Farque.
Traveling onboard a dwarven dreadnought. The largest airships to be found in the skies of Volunell.
That came down the coast of the Southlands, then into the lands of Farque as it was heading to the kingdom of Melaurn.
As he, and everyone onboard, had something in common. They were all after Dorc da Orc, who they all wanted to kill.
They were intercepted by a krean strikeship that was on patrol. Which ordered them out over the sea if they wanted to continue southwards.
From the way sir Percavellé Lé Dic tells it, that was their plan all along. When infact they wanted to stop in the lands Farque for supplies, but were unable to do so.
"Wonder if we'll see any travelers?" says Maselle, as they know they'll be joining the patrols with the members of the garrison here in Halmard. And those patrols are on both sides of the border.
"Who knows" says Hamblin as he and Maselle continue to look away to the north, into lands that are not their lord's.
"We might do" adds the teenager from the farming village of Polsten.
Who before the winter began, and he became an army recruit. Never thought he'd see the ocean. Or land's they aren't his lord's.
Now he stands here on a wall in the border town of Halmard at the end of winter, having seen both . . . . . .

The General & The Knight 32.

Winter. In The Northwest Of The Lands Farque.

The next morning and the day has dawned cloudy, without fog. Though light flurries of snow have started to fall.
Hamblin the teenage recruit who had a good look at his maps before they set off this morning.
Is kind of dreading what he's expecting somewhere up ahead.
The teenager from the farming village of Polsten, which is about forty five miles to the southeast of the forest village of Gildin Dale.
Looks back as he leads the group through the trees, that are thinning out even more. And sees Dorc da Orc at the rear.
The large ork who is dragging the decomposing bear carcass behind him.
Has a look that's both inquisitive, and angry upon his broad, green brutish looking face.
No doubt the ork warleader has caught wind of what's ahead.
As Hamblin knows the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world can smell everything around him for miles.
Looking to his right, Hamblin nods his head, as next to him Maselle the teenage recruit quietly says in the elven language "This could be a problem up ahead".
The teenage girl who also looked at the maps this morning that Hamblin carries with him, continues with "You know how he gets when that's involved".
"I know" says Hamblin the teenage recruit in the same language, who follows that with "Maybe we'll get lucky and find a narrow section".
"Even if we do" says Maselle, who continues with "That's still not going to stop him from moaning and bitching about it".
Hamblin slightly winces as he knows Maselle is right.
Then the recruit who is the son of farmers, looks behind him and Maselle.
As sir Percavellé Lé Dic who is following right behind them, has just said "Pray tell, what are thou discussing?" followed with a mutter of "In that ungodly tongue, wot".
"Just the weather sir" says Hamblin in the common language, the teenager who is the unofficial leader of the first group of recruits based in the forest town of Gildin Dale this winter, then adds "Wondering if this snow will stop anytime soon".
The nobleborn knight grunts, then nods. And thankfully for the two teenage recruits he's following. He falls silent.
Hamblin, along with the rest of the first group of recruits. Infact all four groups who have been living and training in Gildin Dale this winter.
Has learnt to just mention the weather, or something else mundane. When speaking with the former paladin.
As that will usually shut him up. As he prefers to talk about himself more than anything else.
Apart from that. It's his rivalry with Dorc da Orc he likes to talk about more than anything else.
Already this morning, Hamblin and Maselle has heard him loudly muttering about the filthy, disgusting ork warleader.
Which is quite apt this morning. Considering the large ork stinks more than usual today.
As the gnawed upon bear he caught yesterday morning. Absolutely reeks as he drags it behind him.
You would think the cold weather would help mask the smell of the rotting carcass.
That has it's guts hanging out of it at the moment. As the ork weaponsmith wanted some of the good belly meat for dinner last night, and again for breakfast this morning.
But the cold weather and the fresh snow hasn't masked the smell of the dead brown bear at all.
It's only highlighted at how disgusting it smells. As the dead bear, whose fur was thick with grease due to it hibernating during the winter.
Absolutely pongs as it's dragged along the ground by the big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world.
It's not yet midmorning, and the group of young teenage army recruits, along with their instructors, make their way out of the forest.
And even though there's trees still ahead of them, and there's an occasional wood here and there.
They've essentially made their way out of the forest that covers a large area in the northwest region of the lands Farque.
When they briefly stop, and look back in the direction they've come from.
They see where they've basically come uphill. And see the massive tree covered basin behind them. That goes as far as the eye can see.
Not even general Dorc with his naturally enhanced eyesight. Can see the otherside of the basin.
Which is a vast crater, which was caused by a catastrophic explosion, many thousands of years ago. When something from space crashed in this region of the lands Farque*.
After the brief stop, the teenage recruits who are from the northwest region of the lands Farque.
Continue on their way, as they head west to the coast, and eventually the town of Halmard. Which is near the border with the unruled lands to the north.
As they head across more open countryside. They only go about a quarter of a mile or so.
When Hamblin and Maselle, who are out infront. Share a look as they spot what's up ahead in the distance. Just a hundred yards or so away.
At the rear of the line of march. Where he's about twenty yards behind Garmon who is the last of the recruits.
Dorc da Orc, who has been smelling what's up ahead for most of the morning. Even with the rotting bear carcass he's been dragging behind him.
Who was kind of hoping they were going to avoid what's up ahead, comes to a sudden stop.
"Fuck no!" says Dorc da Orc in a loud voice, that all ten of the teenage recruits, along with his bitter rival, sir Percavellé Lé Dic hear.
"Fuck that shit!" adds the large ork in a loud voice as he stands there scowling, as he looks ahead at what's not all that far away.
With a laugh, sir Percavellé Lé Dic who has also spotted what's up ahead, in their path, says in a triumphant tone "Oh glorious".
He looks back to where his longtime rival the ork warleader has stopped, and laughs at the scowling ork weaponsmith.
"Told you" dryly says Maselle in the elven language to Hamblin.
The teenage boy who is the unofficial leader of the first group of recruits, sighs then mutters "Hell".
Then heads back to speak with general Dorc, before the large ork gets it into his mind, to turn around, and head back the way they've come from, and go all the way back to the forest town of Gildin Dale.
While a chuckling sir Percavellé heads off, making his way forward to what has caused the ork warleader to stop in his tracks.
"General, I'm sure there's a narrow section where you might be able to jump across" says Hamblin to the ork weaponsmith "It doesn't look to be too wide from here" continues the teenage recruit, who then silently adds, i hope.
"Fucken better be" says a highly disgruntled sounding Dorc da Orc, or Dorkindle which is his given name.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world, looks down at the young recruit and asks him "Any fucken way around it?".
"I'm afraid not general" says Hamblin, who knows from the maps he's got, there's no way around what's up ahead.
"Krom" mutters the warleader of the ork race, who lets out a sigh, followed by a grunt.
And follows after Hamblin who leads him forward to join the others who have gone ahead.
"There's a ford just up there" says Maselle when Hamblin rejoins her "Even with the snow melt, it's not that deep" adds the teenage girl who continues on with "Barely knee high at it's deepest".
"Cross there" says Hamblin, who then winces as behind them he hears Dorc da Orc say "Fuck that shit in the ear" followed by "It can go fuck itself dead".
What it, the large ork is referring to, is a river. Infact, a tributary of a river, that flows south, from one of many lakes across the north of the lands Farque.
One such lake is the source of the river that runs by the forest town of Gildin Dale.
The river infront of them, isn't particularly wide nor is it particularly deep.
But it's too wide for the ork warleader, and definitely too deep for him. For the simple fact it's a river. And it's got water in it.
As Maselle leads the rest of the group to the nearby ford. Including sir Percavellé Lé Dic who is flapping his arms like a chicken, and saying "Bawk, bawk, bawk" to his bitter rival Dorc da Orc.
Hamblin goes and stands with the big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world.
Simply to make sure he doesn't throw anything, like an axe, at the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic.
To distract the ork weaponsmith who is looking bloody murder at the former paladin, who is now calling Dorkindle a chicken, who doesn't want to get his toesy wosies wet.
Hamblin points off to the north and says to the large ork "Up there general" followed by "At the bend in the river".
The son of the previous matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks looks that way. And spots one of a number of trees along the riverbank.
The ork weaponsmith grunts, then says "Hmmmmm" followed by "Even me might not jump across if me climb to the top of that cunt tree" looking down at the teenage recruit, Dorkindle tells him "General Dorc is not getting fucken wet".
The ork, who was named warleader of the ork race by lord Farque a number of years ago, blinks in surprise when Hamblin says "I was thinking you could knock it down, and make yourself a bridge to cross".
The large ork is silent for a few moments, then says in a completely clam and rational voice. Something that Hamblin has never heard from general Dorc before "That's a good idea".
Then in his regular, deep, rumbling and growling, not to mention heavily accented voice, the ork weaponsmith says "You smart shit" followed by "Keep comin' up with shit like that, them cunts might make you officer in the army one day".
It's Hamblin's turn to look surprised this time. For though he's the unofficial leader of the first group of recruits. He's never contemplated being an officer in his lord's armies. As all he's ever wanted to be is a ranger. Which he knows he's got a good chance of being one day.
"Er yes sir" says the son of farmers from the village of Polsten.
Who along with the ork general make their way northwards along this side of the river.
While the rest of the recruits in the group. Along with sir Percavellé Lé Dic, ford across the river.
The light snow flurries have stopped, and the cloudy sky is starting to clear away.
And at a bend in the river, which even here is fairly shallow, just four feet at the deepest.
The teenage recruit Hamblin, along with Dorc da Orc. Stand there looking at the tree that's right on the river bank.
Looking up at the tree, then across the river to the otherside, the tall, lean, dark haired thirteen year old from the farming village of Polsten says "I think it will go across to the otherside".
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks grunts, and to him too, it looks like the tree will make it across to the other riverbank.
Then Hamblin backs away, as Dorc da Orc spins around a few times, and flings the rotting bear carcass across the river, to land on the otherside.
The teenage boy, who is from a farming family. Who was kind of hoping that partly eaten brown bear ended up in the river. Because it smells absolutely disgusting.
Watches as the ork warleader tightens up the cargo netting that holds his remaining barrels of wine and ale.
The large ork, who is definitely not throwing that across the river. Puts it down on the ground. Then takes an axe from his weapon harness.
It's a plain looking axe, fairly utilitarian. Definitely not made to be a weapon. But can be used as one if necessary.
Dorkindle chops at the base of the tree a few times, on the outer side, away from the river.
Then after returning the axe to his weapon harness, the ork general grunts "Out the way cunt" to Hamblin.
The teenage army recruit backs out of the way even further. And watches Dorc da Orc back up a few paces himself.
As the rest of the group of recruits, along with sir Percavellé Lé Dic, or Percy as he's more commonly called by those who know him well.
Have crossed the ford, and are now on the otherside of the river, and are heading up the opposite bank in this direction.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world. Takes a few quick steps forward, running head first into the tree.
Not hitting it as hard as he could of after closely sniffing it a few times.
The large ork pushes his head against the tree trunk, which he then leans his entire, and rather ample body against the tree. Pushing firmly against it, until there's a loud cracking and splitting sound that comes from the base of the tree, where the ork weaponsmith hacked at it a few times with one of his axes.
The tree continues to creak, and the ork warleader grunts with effort as he shoves.
Dorkindle who knows he could easily knock the tree down with a long run at it, then smacking into it head first.
Has decided to be a bit more circumspect. For he knows he could of damaged it too much. Causing it to break apart.
So he continues to shove at it. Then the large ork hops back out of the way as the tree finally falls forward. Going across the river, to the other bank.
And though some of the branches are beneath the water. The tree trunk itself is barely wet. As it crosses to the otherside, which is about thirty five feet away in this narrow bend in the river.
"I'll cross it first if you like general" says Hamblin the teenage recruit, who continues with "To make sure it's stable".
The young army recruit who is from the farming village of Polsten then adds "I can hack away some of those branches sticking up if you want me too?".
Dorc da Orc grunts that is indeed a good idea. And he waves Hamblin forward onto the downed tree across the river.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks sourly smiles as he sees how nimbly Hamblin goes across the fallen tree.
And even stands there about three quarters of the way across, taking his hatchet from his pack.
Which he uses to chop away some of the branches sticking up on the dry side of the tree trunk.
Only leaving the really thick ones still sticking up. As it will take him a while to chop them off with his small hand axe.
Once on the otherside of the river. Hamblin in the elven language, tells Maselle to keep a watch on sir Percavellé Lé Dic.
Too make sure the nobleborn knight doesn't throw anything at his bitter rival when the ork warleader crosses over the river.
The former paladin is already calling out insults to the large ork who is still standing there.
Looking a little dubiously at the tree he's just knocked down. And looking angrily at the river beneath it.
Hamblin minus his heavy pack, crosses back over the tree. And rejoins the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks.
"See sir, fairly easy" says the teenager who is the unofficial leader of the first of the four groups of recruits who have been living and training in the forest town of Gildin Dale this winter.
"For fucken you it is" mutters Dorkindle in the ork language, who then grunts when the young recruit tells him "I'm sure it will hold you general".
"Help the general tights this fucker up" says the large ork who has tied the cargo netting with his remaining barrels of wine and ale to the back of his weapon harness.
Hamblin does so, making sure each strap of the harness is secured to the cargo netting that's cinched tight around the barrels.
The big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world grunts when he's satisfied with things. Then Hamblin crosses over the river again. Almost running across the downed tree.
Dorc da Orc not so much. As he gets down onto his hands and knees. And crawls across the tree he knocked down.
All the while muttering to himself in the ork language. Whist ignoring the taunts from sir Percavellé Lé Dic.
Who is making it fairly clear he wants the large ork to fall in the river.
Which the ork general almost does, as he crawls around the base of a thick branch. And almost ends up in the water.
The ork weaponsmith angrily hisses at the river beneath him, like he's a giant, green, seven hundred and fifty pound cat.
Before he continues on his way. And gets across his makeshift bridge. And makes it to the otherside. Much to his relief. And much to Percy's disappointment.
After Dorc da Orc, who is breathing rather heavily, gets to his feet, and gathers up the nearby bear carcass he biffed over to this side.
Hamblin the teenage recruit says to them all "Come on" followed by "We've still got a bit of a way to the coast road".
The group of ten young army recruits and two of their instructors continue on their way westwards, heading to the coast, and eventually the town of Halmard . . . . . .

* Author's Note - The crash landing and destruction of the ISS Kalvel 3. The InterStella Ship that brought those who would become the gods. As well as their captain, the original Farque. To the world of Volunell.

The General & The Knight 31.

Winter. The Nation Of Farque.

Unfortunately not. As the two bitter rivals. Dorc da Orc and sir Percavellé Lé Dic argue and bicker late into the night.
They only stop when a rather grumpy sounding Marshay tells the two of them to shut up.
As she and Farnid are on guard after midnight. And that she would like at least a little bit of sleep by then.
The large ork and the nobleborn knight really only fall silent as sir Percavellé Lé Dic feels a little tired himself. And he wants some sleep. Which he gets.
Unlike the ork warleader who is awake all night. Not bothering to go to sleep, as he isn't tired.
Besides he slept all last night, back in the town of Gildin Dale. Which he figures is enough to last him at least a few days.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world. Like all orks, has an extremely strong constitution.
Who has enormous endurance when he wants to. As he can go at least a week without sleep if he wants to.
During the night as he sips from a barrel of wine. The ork weaponsmith does nothing but glare at where the former paladin is sleeping.
Dorc da Orc or Dorkindle which is his given name, is thinking of the many ways in which he could kill sir Percavellé Lé Dic, or Percy as he's more commonly called by those who know him well.
There's a lot of ways. And it keeps him occupied until the morning. As he goes over in his mind, the numerous ways in which he can kill off the former earl of Lé Dic.
The teenage recruits of the first group, along with Percy have a warm breakfast before they break camp.
While Dorkindle drinks one of the small barrels of ale. Before they pack up camp. And head out, as they continue westwards towards the coast of the lands Farque.
And the town of Halmard, which is near the border with the unruled lands to the north of their nation.
As per usual, the teenage recruit Hamblin leads the way. And he has sir Percavellé Lé Dic right behind him.
While Dorc da Orc, just like yesterday. Walks at the rear of the line of march. As far from his bitter rival, the former paladin as much as possible.
Arguing late into the night is bad enough. But if the two of them continually bicker with one another throughout the day.
That would make the journey out west for the teenage recruits, a nightmare for sure.
And none of them want that. As they have at least a few more days worth of travel left before they get to the coast.
The morning though at first is slightly foggy, turns clear and sunny fairly quickly.
Snow is everywhere across the ground, and in the branches of the trees.
And the teenage recruits of the first group, along with two of their instructors.
Have to weave their way through the trees. As they're following game trails when they come across them.
If not, they're walking beneath the larger trees as they head west.
Throughout the morning, they realise that they're slowly heading uphill.
And from the two maps given to Hamblin by field commander Tamric Drubine back in the town of Gildin Dale just before they left early yesterday morning.
The teenage recruit who is the unofficial leader of the first group. Who is certain to end up in the scouts and rangers division in one of their lord's armies. And who is also tipped to be an officer one day.
Knows that much of the forest here in this part of the northwest region of the lands Farque.
Is essentially in one massive basin. Dozens and dozens of miles across. And even more from north to south.
It's the main reason why this part of northwestern Farque gets a lot of fog during the winter time.
The cold air settles down across much of the forest during the wintertime. With the fog acting as a layer, trapping that cold air.
It's why the forest area that surrounds the town of Gildin Dale and beyond.
Is far more colder than it is out towards the coast during the winter.
And down in the massive basin, it's the opposite during the summer.
As it's hot and humid in Gildin Dale and the surrounding forest.
While out to the west, beyond the forest, and on the coast. The sea breeze keeps things more tolerable during the hottest weeks of summer.
As they start gradually heading uphill, the forest starts to thin out quite markedly. With the trees spread out quite a bit, and with less undergrowth.
They also see a lot more snow on the ground from the on and off snowfall over the last handful of days here in this area of northwestern Farque.
Dorc da Orc, who once again is following the teenage recruit Garmon.
Who this morning, is walking with Jinsa. As there's a lot more room now that the forest is thinning out. So that the recruits can walk side by side if they want to.
Is sniffing as he walks. As he's want to do.
The ork warleader, whose netting of wine and ale barrels is smaller. Making it easier for him to carry.
Grunts as he looks away from his bitter rival sir Percavellé Lé Dic up at the front of the line of march.
And looks away to the right through the trees. As he's caught a scent in that direction.
"Fucken sweet" Dorc da Orc murmurs to himself in the ork language, who then starts trotting off in that direction through the trees.
Up infront, Hamblin the teenage recruit looks back, when Garmon at the rear calls out in the elven language with "The general has taken off to the north!".
Hamblin, who is from the farming village of Polsten, which lies about forty five miles to the southeast of the forest town of Gildin Dale.
Looks in the direction that the ork weaponsmith has taken off in. And he spots the big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world. Jogging away through the trees to the north.
"Gar, Jin follow him!" calls out Hamblin in the elven language. For he knows the large ork can well and truly look after himself in any dangerous situation.
It's still best to try and keep him out of any potential trouble.
All the recruits of the first group, including Garmon and Jinsa know this.
And the two of them hurry away to the north through the trees, following after the general in the armies of Farque.
Hamblin ignores the muttered comment of "Hope the big smelly beast falls down a ravine and breaks his neck" from sir Percavellé Lé Dic behind him.
Instead the teenage recruit from the farming village of Polsten puts up his right arm, and gives the signal to the others that he's slowing them down for a moment.
At least until Garmon, Jinsa as well as general Dorc return to the rest of them.
The two teenage recruits Garmon and Jinsa run to their right, when they spot the large ork heading further that way.
Here, north of where the others are. The trees are a little thicker, and closer together, with less snow upon the ground.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world disappears from view behind some thick bush.
Then the next moment, Garmon and Jinsa, come to a quick stop. And share a look, as they hear a growl come from somewhere on the otherside of the bush just up ahead.
All winter, they've heard the ork general growl. And this growl, was definitely not him.
Besides, they can hear the warleader of the ork race chuckling to himself, as well a saying something in his native language. Which of course, they can't understand.
"Sounds like a bear" Jinsa the recruit murmurs to Garmon.
Who nods, and takes what Jinsa said as fact. After all she's from a forest village further to the east, up near the border. Nearly a hundred miles from Gildin Dale.
And the first group's best archer has spent her whole life in forest like this. And learnt from her father, who is a master archer in their lord's armies.
And she knows the sound of a growling bear when she hears one.
The two of them quickly step back, as they hear more growling, as well as chuckling.
As Dorc da Orc suddenly appears. Backing up through the bushes just up ahead, dragging a bear by a hind leg.
The bear, a brown one. Which by the looks of it, would normally be larger. But since it's recently come out of hibernation. It's a lot slimmer than it normally would be.
Nevertheless, as it's dragged across the ground on it's back. It attempts to swipe at it's attacker.
But to no avail, as the large ork, has got a firm grip on it's left rear paw. Which he's broken, if the angle of it sticking out to one side is anything to go by.
Not even bothering to kill the bear that's only recently come out of hibernation.
Dorkindle says to the two teenage recruits "Out the way cunts" followed by "Don't want the furry fuck to bites you".
Garmon and Jinsa quickly get out of the way as the ork weaponsmith is heading back their way.
Easily dragging the brown bear, which still with even the loss of weight over the winter. Must weigh more than the large ork himself. And is close to a thousand pounds in weight.
"Bear fucks can't do shit when they on their backs" says the ork general to the two recruits who are off to one side, keep pace with him.
The son of the previous matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks. Who has been hunting and killing bears since he was an orkling.
In particular, the giant ice bears found in the southern polar region of the world.
Bears that easily weigh in excess of two thousand pounds. And stand over twelve feet tall.
Grunts then says "Nah, not fucken yet" in reply to Garmon asking him "Aren't you going to kill it general?".
As he like the rest of the group, and for that matter. All the teenage army recruits who have been living and training in the town of Gildin Dale this winter.
Has seen the large ork kill and eat all manner of animals and creatures found in the forest.
"By great Narille and Saint Mar-che himself, what doth that filthy beast have here?" loudly mutters sir Percavellé Lé Dic.
Hamblin the teenage recruit turns, and looks to where the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic is looking.
And the teenager from the farming village of Polsten blinks in surprise, then murmurs in elven "Fucking hell".
When he spots general Dorc, and sees what the large ork has with him.
"Er?" murmurs the former earl of Lé Dic, who sees what it is his bitter rival is dragging along the ground.
The bear, which is snapping and biting at air. While it's front paws are also swinging at nothing.
Growls and roars as it's dragged by the rear left foot, on it's back. Desperately rying to scramble away.
But unable to, as Dorkindle has a tight grip upon it's rear left foot, which he snapped when he grabbed a hold of the bear.
When it was coming out backwards from it's den, totally bewildered that something rather smelly was just outside the front of it's winter den.
Dorc da Orc stops, swats away the right front paw of the brown bear that just swung at him.
Then the warleader of the ork race punches the bear right in the face. Hitting it in the jaw, breaking it.
If you ever wanted to see a stunned and bewildered looking bear. Then this is the prime example of such a bear.
As it lies there on it's back, not understanding what's happening to it this morning.
It's so bewildered, not to mention totally disoriented. That it doesn't realise that it's lower jaw is completely broken.
The chuckling ork weaponsmith punches the brown bear just above the snout again.
Right between it's dazed eyes. The ursine creature doesn't even know it. But it's now knocked out.
"Fucken get some" says Dorc da Orc in satisfaction.
Who looks around and notices the entire group of recruits, who number ten. Along with his bitter rival, sir Percavellé Lé Dic. Have all stopped, and are watching him.
With the former paladin looking on in disapproval.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks grins, then says just one word to them all, as he nods down at the unconscious brown bear "Lunch".
The group get underway again, with the teenager Hamblin leading the way through the forest, as they continue westwards to the coast.
Dorc da Orc is at the rear of the line of march. Walking behind the two recruits Garmon and Jinsa.
The brown bear, which is still alive, and is unconscious. Is over the left shoulder of the large ork.
Who is grunting a lot with the effort to keep the near thousand pound bear steady on his left shoulder.
While also keeping the netting full of wine and ale barrels up off the ground as he holds them over his right shoulder.
And though the ork warleader can occasionally be heard muttering to himself in the incomprehensible language of his race.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world can also be heard chuckling away to himself.
Pleased with himself that he's got plenty enough to both eat and drink for at least the next couple of days.
When the group of teenage army recruits and their two instructors stop around midday for a quick meal.
Dorkindle starts in on the brown bear he's caught.
The ork general in the armies of the Farque doesn't bother killing the bear. For where would the fun be in that.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks starts eating it alive.
The unconscious bear wakes up dazed and disoriented with the large ork chewing on it's hindquarters.
A confused sounding roar comes from the broken jaw of the bear.
Which is knocked out again, when the ork warleader, who is chuckling away to himself, punches it hard in the maw again.
Before he resumes eating the brown bear. Not bothered about it's greasy fur, as he chomps away on it.
The recruits of the first group, along with sir Percavellé Lé Dic eat a bit of distance away from Dorkindle when they stop for the midday meal.
None of them want to see the large ork eat the bear as it's still alive.
Infact the bear, which is missing a fair chunk of it's left hindquarters. Is still alive, and unconscious.
When the teenage recruits and their two instructors set off again as they continue westwards through the forest towards the coast.
The brown bear only dies late in the day, much to the disappointment of Dorc da Orc.
As it succumbs to blood loss and shock. From the large chunk missing from it's hindquarters.
When that happens, the son of the previous matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks doesn't bother carrying it over his left shoulder anymore.
He just drags it along the ground behind him, as he keeps a hold of it by a paw.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world doesn't care at how dirty and messed up it gets.
He's going to eat it no matter what. When he and the ten teenagers of the first group of recruits. Along with his bitter rival, sir Percavellé Lé Dic. Stop for the night, as they continue their journey to the west coast of the lands Farque, and their eventual destination, the town of Halmard . . . . . .